


Fuego

by Daisy_Rivers



Series: Song on My Tongue [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Communication Issues, Drama, F/M, Love, M/M, Multi, Past Relationships, Semi-Public Sex, Theater - Freeform, public semi-sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: Your relationship with Rafael continues to develop, but your friends' relationship issues keep causing trouble.





	Fuego

**Author's Note:**

> So it looks like "The Song That Yearns to Be on My Tongue" was the first of a series. I'm not sure how many pieces there will be. More than two, for sure, because things still aren't settled.

Two weeks after _Currents_ closes, you have coffee with Jasmine.

“You guys got amazing reviews,” she says, stirring her latte.

You can’t help smiling, “Yeah, we did.”

“So what’s next?”

“I don’t know. Pam’s talking about some things.” Pam is your agent.

Jazzy looks up, hesitates. “And … uh … you and Rafa? Still good, or is the showmance fading?”

You feel your face flush. “So far, so good,” you say, “and didn’t you and Anthony start with a showmance?”

“Definitely.” She waggles her fingers at you to show off her ring. “It worked out pretty well.”

“So we may have a chance?”

She tilts her head. “Of course. I didn’t mean to sound like … it’s just, Rafa … sometimes he’s hard to read.”

“I know.” You’ve been trying to read him for more than two months. “It’s good, though. The showmance thing isn’t a curse, is it?”

She takes a sip of coffee, thinks about it. “No, not exactly, but you know how it is when you’re caught up in a show, especially when you’re playing opposite each other. There’s so much emotion.”

That was certainly true. The kissing scene you’d had with Rafa in _Currents_ nearly tore you apart, especially since for most of the rehearsals, you were barely speaking to one another.

“I mean,” Jazzy continues, “look at Lin and Pippa.”

A cell phone video of Lin and Pippa has been making the rounds of Twitter and Instagram. Someone had recorded them in a restaurant having an argument. A very loud profanity-filled argument.

“Why do they do that?” you ask, knowing there’s no answer. “They’re both so brilliant and so talented, you’d think they would know better.”

“You’d think,” Jasmine agrees. “There was so much bleeped out, I couldn’t even tell what they were arguing about.”

“Oh, you didn’t catch the uncensored version?”

“No, where is it?”

“YouTube, but you have to hunt around. I’ll send you the link if I can find it again.”

“So what were they fighting about?”

“Some girl Lin met when he was working in London.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “Here we go again.”

*          *          *          *          *

Rafa’s working on his laptop with Daveed on the phone and Lin face-timing on his iPad. You’re a little surprised to see Lin because you didn’t know they were working on something together, but you wave as you walk by to go make some coffee.

Lin, of course, can’t just wave back. “Hey, Y/N, lookin’ good!”

“Thanks,” you throw over your shoulder, but you’re not going to get involved in a conversation.

You make the coffee and bring Rafa a cup, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. He smiles up at you briefly, but he’s talking to Daveed. “What if we use a flash-back instead of having him talk so much about what happened before?” You can’t hear Daveed’s response, but Rafa says, “Like with lights? What about a screen?”

“That might be cool,” Lin comments. “Like a back-projection screen where you could run a scene in video.”

Rafa looks intrigued. “Alternate live action with video? I mean, it’s been done, with news clips or even with families watching old home movies.” He thinks about it. “What if we do the past as live action and the present as kind of old-looking grainy video?”

“Because the past is more present than the present in this case,” Lin says, his face intent. “I like that.”

You know Rafael is working on another play, and you know Daveed has input to everything he does, but it sounds like Lin is contributing to this too. You wonder if he’s directing. Lin’s still primarily a writer, but he works behind the scenes sometimes too. You ask about it later, while you and Rafa are eating take-out Chinese food for dinner.

“So, your new play …”

 _“Centaur,”_ he reminds you.

“Yeah, is Lin working on that too?”

He chews on a shrimp before he answers. “He says he’d like to produce it, but he’s also involved in creating the script.” His voice is neutral, not enthusiastic, but not unhappy either.

“Is he helpful?”

Rafa’s eyebrows go up. “He’s Lin Man-fuckin-uel Miranda, Y/N, how would he not be helpful?”

“Okay, I know he’s a genius …”

“Yeah.”

“I just … I know you and Daveed collaborate all the time, but I didn’t know you worked with other people.”

He sighs, elaborately patient. “I work with anybody I share a common vision with. Mostly Daveed, sure, but come on, I’ve written with Nico, Marc, Chinaka, tons of people.”

“Yeah, right, of course, I wasn’t thinking.”

You finish eating in silence, and you’re not even sure what feels off.

Later, you’re on the couch with him, and he has his arm around you while you’re watching some weird new Netflix series that has creepy aliens hiding in the shadows. You’re not really paying attention to it, and apparently Rafa isn’t either.  He turns to nuzzle your neck, and scrapes his teeth across your earlobe in a way that makes you shudder. “You staying over?” he asks softly.

You stay at his apartment more often than he stays at yours because somebody has to walk Mía early in the morning.

You lean toward him so he can do that thing with your ear again, and he does. “Mm-hm,” you murmur.

He kisses his way down your throat, sliding his hand up the back of your shirt as he does it. He unhooks your bra with a quick thumb-and-forefinger-move that you’ve never been able to master yourself, and then runs his hand up to the back of your neck, taking your shirt with it. He pulls it over your head and tosses it to the floor, and then half lifts you onto his lap, your back against his chest. You lean on him, your head on his shoulder, as he takes one breast in each hand, cups them, runs his thumbs over the nipples. You sigh and tilt your head to kiss him, but he doesn’t turn toward you. He’s playing with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, squeezing your breasts, holding the pressure, then letting them go and starting over. You can’t help but move, and you’re making noises, little whimpers.

“You like that, yeah?” he whispers.

“You know I do.” He knows everything you like by now. You know him too, and you know one of the things he likes is taking his time with you, teasing you until every nerve in your body is screaming for release. You only wish you could take him apart he way he does you.

He unbuttons and unzips your jeans, one-handed again, his right hand still caressing your breasts. He shoves your jeans and your underpants down, and you help, raising your hips, and then kicking them off. You’re naked and he has both hands back on you, his right hand in your hair, holding your head in place as he kisses you, his left hand between your legs. He’s left-handed, and very, very good at this, thumb on your clit, two fingers in, changing up the pressure. You feel him hard against you and try to reach the waist of his jeans, but he moves his left arm up to keep you still. “Mm-mm,” he says in your ear, licks your earlobe, sucks it. “Let me play.”

You know you ought to say something enlightened and feminist about not being his plaything, but _God_ , it feels so good. You rub your ass against him, and he catches his breath. “Fuck, baby, you wanna make me come in my pants like I’m sixteen?”

“Take your pants off, then,” you tell him, and he responds by sliding a third finger inside you. You push against his hand, trying to get enough pressure, but he won’t let you. You finally twist away and turn yourself around, fumbling at his zipper.

“Goddam you, Rafa, get your pants off and fuck me.”

And he’s _laughing_ , and you could kill him for laughing at you, but not now, because you really, really need him inside you. He relents, yanks his pants off, pulls his shirt over his head, and you kneel over him, balancing carefully on the couch. He steadies you with his hands on your hips, and looks up at you, his eyes pure green, the irises narrow rings of jade around his blown pupils. You slide down as slowly as you can, and he closes his eyes, throws his head back, inhaling a long breath. He pulls you down tight against him, pushing his hips up, and murmurs, “Ah, fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You brace your feet on each side of him and put your hands on his shoulders as you begin to move up and down, trying to keep it slow. You want to push him to the edge, tease him, hear him beg, but he’s better at that game than you are. His eyes are open again so he can watch your face, and he puts his left hand on your face, runs his thumb over your lips, then slips it inside your mouth, strokes your tongue with it. You suck on it like a needy baby, and he smiles. “That’s right, baby, get it good and wet.” He takes it out of your mouth and puts it on your clit, sliding it in easy, slippery circles.

You keep moving up and down on him, and he keeps rubbing your clit and you feel the heat rising in you, feel yourself tightening on him. He lifts his hips to push into you now, stretching you as much as he can while your body tries to hold him in. Flutters start, then become spasms, then waves that lift you up into the pure pleasure that pulses through you. Rafa’s seconds behind you, yells “Fuck!” as he thrusts up so hard it shakes your jaw, but it’s all good, so, so good. You finish with your hands grasping his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails draw blood, and you know there will be bruises on your hips where he held you.

You slide off him, and he holds you close, pulls the soft dark red throw off the back of the couch and wraps it around both of you, naked and sticky and already half asleep.

*          *          *          *          *

When Rafael gets back from walking Mía in the morning, you’ve made a pot of coffee, feeling very domestic. He hangs up Mía’s leash and stirs milk and sugar into his cup.

“What have you got today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I need to call Pam. She left a message last night.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear your phone? I wonder how that happened.”

You feel yourself blush. “Shut up,” you say.

He puts down his coffee cup and leans in to kiss your neck. “I really don’t think you can shut me up,” he tells you. “I mean, lots of people have tried …” He kisses your jaw and then your mouth, tasting of coffee and the cigarette he’d smoked while he was walking Mía. It’s a familiar taste now, and you like it.

It doesn’t last too long, though. He picks up his mug and drinks some more coffee. “I’m heading over to Daveed’s as soon as I get a shower. He’s got to leave for Vancouver tomorrow, and I need him to help me pull Act One together.”

“What’s he doing in Vancouver?” you ask. Daveed has even more projects going than Rafael, if that’s possible.

“Oh, that HBO thing,” Rafa responds, waving his hand in vague circles.

“HBO?” You don’t remember anyone telling you anything about Daveed and an HBO project.

“You know,” Rafa says, as if he’s explained it ten times. “That thing with the pandemic and the laboratory? He’s the biologist?”

You shake your head. “Nope, never heard of it.”

“Huh, I was sure I told you.”

“Must have been some other girl,” you mutter sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Rafa agrees, apparently taking your comment at face value, “maybe it was.”

A few minutes after he leaves for Daveed’s, you get a text from Jasmine. It’s a forwarded Instagram video of Lin and Pippa at a club. Pippa is wearing a white silk blouse with flowing sleeves and black satin pants that look like they were painted on her. She’s dancing with Lin, who has both hands on her ass, inside the pants, holding her hips tightly to his. She has both arms around him and her face pressed into his neck. Whoever took the video got them from several angles, and when you turn the sound on, you hear various lewd background comments. Lin’s publicist is not going to be happy about this, but it’s probably better publicity than the last one of them screaming at each other.

 _So, true love continues?_ you text back to Jasmine.

 _Yeah, that’s it,_ she replies with an eye-roll emoji. _You up for lunch?_

_Have to call Pam, I’ll get back to you._

Pam has good news. You have an audition for a role with a three-episode arc on _NCIS_. “You’re a Navy doctor whose husband, also in the Navy, has disappeared. As of now, you get killed off in the third episode, but there might be a little wiggle room if the response is good.”

“So I might not die?”

“Well, you probably will, but you know, if you really wow them …”

“Okay, I’m up for it. When?”

“Early next week if that works for you.” She gives you a number to call. You’ll have to fly to LA, but that’s fine. Most working actors travel back and forth between coasts. It’s only seven o’clock in California, so you can’t call yet, and text Jasmine back asking when and where for lunch.

 _1:00 at Sunflower? Pippa dropped by, so she’s coming too_. She’s added a shrug emoji, but really, it’s fine. You like Pippa. Everybody does.

Sunflower is the current New York hot spot to see and be seen. You wave at Chris and Veronica who are having their lunch at a table near one of the big windows, and you’re only a little surprised to see that Lin has joined Pippa and Jasmine in one of the smaller dining rooms. He’s already pulled his chair as close as possible to Pippa’s and is stroking her arm lightly and smiling into her eyes.

Jasmine gives you a look that clearly means _I couldn’t help it_ , and you respond with a reassuring smile. After all, Lin and Pippa certainly don’t want to get thrown out of Sunflower again, not after the recent videos that were still making the social media rounds. The whole world has adored both of them ever since their Tony-winning performances as Ariel and Sebastian, but the public can be fickle, and Lin and Pippa’s outrageous exhibitionism makes their publicists nervous. You’re glad to see that at least they don’t seem to have started drinking yet.

Your waitress, all smiles to wait on a table full of well-known artists, brings your menus and takes your drink orders, and conversation picks up.

“Where’s your bay boy?” Lin asks.

“He’s going over Act One of _Centaur_ with Daveed,” you reply. “Daveed’s going to Vancouver tomorrow so he wants to get as much done as possible today.”

“Right, right,” Lin agrees, “D has that HBO thing going on, doesn’t he? The one where everybody dies of measles or something?”

“Something like that,” you respond. Are you the only one who hadn’t already heard about it?

The waitress comes back with your drinks, and you’ve just taken a sip of your hibiscus tea when somebody behind you yells, “Lin Miranda!”

Lin is out of his seat in a second, and you turn around just in time to see him throw himself at Jonathan Groff. They hug each other enthusiastically, and Lin drags him back to the table, tells Jasmine to move over and pulls a chair from a nearby table so that Groff can sit next to him.

“When did you get back?” Pippa asks, giving him her brightest smile.

“Day before yesterday,” he tells her.

“And you didn’t call me?” Lin is doing his best to look outraged, but grinning anyway.

“Oh, come on, jet lag is still killing me.”

“Where have you been?” you ask politely. You don’t know Groff well, but you’ve met him a few times.

“New Zealand,” he tells you, rolling his eyes. “Gorgeous country, amazing in every way, but I don’t want to get on another plane for at least six months.”

“How long did it take?”

“More than an entire day,” Groff declares dramatically. “Auckland to LA, LA to New York. I’m still exhausted.” He throws his head down on Lin’s shoulder and says, “Be nice to me.”

Lin starts petting his hair and whispering to him, while Pippa gazes at them, apparently entranced. She pushes her chair right up against Lin’s and leans in, tracing little circles on Groff’s arm with her fingertip.

A sudden realization hits you, and you look at Jasmine, your eyebrows raised. She rolls her eyes and nods.

 _Holy shit,_ you mouth. You could probably say it aloud, because the other three are ignoring you and Jasmine completely. Lin’s got one hand in Groff’s hair and one in Pippa’s, but their hands are under the white tablecloth, and Lin is biting his lip and sighing.

You glance around and see that several restaurant patrons have their phones out to take pictures. That’s not unexpected; people are always snapping photos of celebrities, but a lot of these phones are staying out, so they’re taking video, not snapshots.

“Should we do anything?” you whisper to Jasmine.

“Like what? Pry them apart with a steak knife?”

She makes you laugh, but you really don’t want to see your friends blow up their careers over this nonsense. Besides, you’re probably in some of the videos too, and you have your own career to think of. “Chris and Veronica were in the other room when I came in. I’ll go see …”

Jasmine nods in agreement. "I'll text Anthony, see if he wants to join us."

You head out to the main dining room. _Poor Chris_ , you think. _Why does he always have to be the one to keep Lin in line?_ Unfortunately, Chris and Veronica have already left, so you’re out of luck, but just as you’re about to return to your table, you see Rafael and Daveed come in. You hurry across the room and grab Rafa by the arm. “Thank God! We need some help.”

“What’s wrong?” Rafa asks, really concerned.

You look from him to Daveed and back again. “Lin and Pippa. And Groff is here too.”

“Oh, shit,” Daveed mutters. He clearly understands what you mean. They both follow you.

“I thought that was over last year,” Rafa is saying behind you.

“It was,” Daveed replies, “but it started up again after Karen left.”

“Oh, Karen wouldn’t …?”

“Right.”

“I wondered.”

You’re beginning to feel like you’re back in eighth grade with your friends explaining oral sex to you. How are you the only person in your friend group who doesn’t know all the details of Lin’s and Pippa’s romantic entanglements?

“Hey,” Daveed says as you reach the table. Jasmine is still texting, her eyes averted from what is not-quite-yet a three-way make-out session at the other end of the table.

“We’re joining you for lunch,” Rafa announces firmly, and snags a passing waiter. “Can you put two tables together for us?” he asks. “We weren’t sure we were going to be able to get here, so they didn’t leave room for us.” He slips a bill into the waiter’s hand and gets a big smile in return.

Daveed stands behind Lin. “We’re gonna need some more room here. Hey, Groff, move over closer to Jazzy, so I can sit here.” He ruthlessly drags Groff’s chair, Groff still in it, out of his way. “Tell Jasmine all about New Zealand,” he suggests.

Bu now, a couple of waiters have pushed a second table against the first one, and more chairs have been brought. Daveed takes his seat between Groff and Lin, and Rafael sits next to Pippa. You don’t exactly love that, but you are grateful to him and Daveed for defusing the situation with such skill. Your waitress brings your plates, takes orders from Groff, Daveed, and Rafael, and you start to eat your salad, trying not to laugh. Rafa leans across Pippa to ask Lin’s opinion about something in _Centaur_ , and Lin responds with alacrity, as he always does when somebody wants his advice. Pippa sulks a little at being left out, but somehow you all get through lunch without any blatant scandal-provoking filmable behavior. Lin and Pippa eat especially quickly.

“We have to go,” Pippa smiles. “Lin’s got a ton of work.”

Lin nods, trying to look weary. _“Siempre.”_ He smiles at Groff. “So you’ll be over for dinner, right?”

“Absolutely. What time?”

“Whenever you want,” Lin assures him, patting his shoulder as he and Pippa walk out.

Pippa turns back and literally bats her eyelashes. “Come early!”

“I will.” Within minutes, Groff has finished his lunch and is making excuses about having to take a nap because of the jet lag. He leaves and the four of you stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Oh, my fucking God!” Jasmine bursts out. “What is the matter with them?”

Rafael attempts to respond. “Actually, human romantic and sexual behaviors run on a continuum, so that a triad is not …”

“Shut up, Rafa!” Jasmine snaps ruthlessly. “I don’t care if they’re all fucking each other, their dogs, and ten other people, I just don’t want to feature in the YouTube video that brings all our careers crashing down.”

“Their dogs?” Daveed asks quietly, in a horrified voice.

“Forget the dogs, D, I don’t actually think they’re …” Jasmine realizes what she’s saying, and stops, and then all of you are collapsing in laughter.

“Although Tobi _is_ a cute dog,” Daveed points out as soon as he can talk, and that sets you all off again.

“Pippa has a cat,” Rafa volunteers, “so there would be ...”

“Stop,” you beg. “I can’t breathe.”

Rafa throws his arm round you. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “One thing, though …”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to tell Mía.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Fuego" is the title of a rap song by Rafael Casal (around 2013). Good song, good video. Find it on YouTube. "Fuego" is Spanish for "fire," which seems appropriate, since lots of things are going up in flames.  
> Once again, I beg forgiveness from Lin and Pippa, and now Groff, and probably Tobi. Not Tobi, really. It was just Jasmine using hyperbole.  
> Also, Lin and Pippa have never played the roles of Sebastian and Ariel, at least not on Broadway, so they have no Tony Awards for those roles. 
> 
> I have no idea where this is all going but I'm having fun with it. I hope you are too. Let me know.


End file.
